Page 115 of Dark Bonds

“Thank you,” she murmurs against my shirt, her words muffled but no less heartfelt. “For being here, for understanding, and for giving me the choice.”

I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her scent like a drowning man gasping for air. “Always, Frankie. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Matteo,” Frankie whispers, her breath warm against my chest. “I should have hurt her. I should have killed her, and yet…”

She couldn’t.

I tighten my hold on her, fear and desire warring within me. “Hey, sometimes our fears put the safety back on the gun.”

When she is ready to face her fears and Valerie again, I’ll be there to hand her the proverbial weapon.

As we stand in the empty hallway, I know things have changed between us. The dynamics of our pack, our relationships, will never be quite the same, but feeling Frankie in my arms, strong and whole despite everything she’s been through, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

May the Gods help anyone who tries to hurt her again. The beast inside me rumbles in agreement, a promise of violence to come. I’d do anything for Frankie, even if it meant taking on the whole world.

Chapter 38

Dorian

I sinkinto my old armchair. The leather creaks under me, and I swear it sounds like it’s complaining. The room is dim, lit only by a single lamp that casts long, accusing shadows across the antique furniture. Books line the walls, their spines a testament to centuries of accumulated knowledge and secrets.

The air feels thick. Everything’s too intense—the smells, the sounds, even the shadows. The musty scent of ancient parchment mingles with the metallic tang of magic, sharp enough to taste. Shadows writhe at the edges of my vision, while the constant throb of my curse pulses through my body like a second heartbeat. Even the silence seems to have weight, pressing against my eardrums with the promise of secrets yet to be revealed.

As I rub my temples, trying in vain to soothe the relentless throbbing, the curse pulses through me. This curse... It’s like it’s alive. I can feel it moving under my skin. It’s driving me crazy. The pain is exquisite, a symphony of agony that threatens to shatter my sanity. I can almost hear it whispering, urging me to give in and let the darkness consume me entirely.

I’m only twenty-two…

It’s not my curse that occupies my thoughts tonight though. It’s Frankie. Her face haunts me, as do her eyes that have seen too much pain and betrayal, and I’m about to add to that burden.

“Still haven’t told her, huh?” Uncle Everett’s voice cuts through my brooding like a knife through flesh. He saunters into my old room that he’s taken over, a tumbler of amber liquid in hand. “You look like you’re about to face an eredar beast with nothing but a toothpick.”

I glance up at him, managing a weak smile that feels more like a grimace. “You know, Uncle, I’ve been noticing some strange energy fluctuations in the library lately,” I say, frowning. “It’s like there’s something hidden down there, something powerful.”

Everett raises an eyebrow. “Blackwood’s always been secretive about his research. You think he’s up to something?”

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Maybe. It’s probably nothing, but...”

“But your instincts are usually right,” Everett finishes, his expression grave. “Be careful, Dorian. Blackwood’s not a man to be trifled with.”

“Dealing with Blackwood might be preferable to what I’m about to do.” I score my nails down my face before I blink up at him.

Everett settles into the chair across from me, his eyes twinkling with a mix of concern and amusement. The ice in his glass clinks softly, a counterpoint to the deafening silence of my guilt. “Come on, kid. We’ve been over this. You can’t keep those men in your magical bubbles forever. Frankie deserves to know the truth.”

I sigh, leaning back. The leather creaks again, the sound accusatory. “Damn it, I know,” I growl, the curse pulsing beneath my skin. “But every time I steel myself to tell her, I see her face again—the raw guilt, the soul-crushing pain whenshe thought she killed. I couldn’t... I couldn’t let her carry that burden.”

“By lying to her?” Everett raises an eyebrow, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. “That’s a pretty slippery slope, Dorian. Trust me, I’ve slid down it a few times myself.”

“It wasn’t just a lie,” I argue, though my voice lacks conviction. The words taste like ash in my mouth. “I was trying to keep her from becoming a killer. You know what that does to a person.”

Everett’s expression softens, the lines around his eyes deepening with memories of his own demons. “I do, and I understand why you did it, but keeping this secret... It’s eating you up inside, and if Frankie finds out from someone else?—”

“I know,” I interrupt, running a hand through my hair. The strands feel coarse and brittle, as if the lies I told have poisoned me down to the roots. “But what if she hates me for it? What if this destroys whatever we have?”

“Then at least you’ll have been honest with her,” Everett says, leaning forward. His eyes bore into mine, unflinching. “Look, Dorian. Frankie’s strong. She’s been through hell and come out swinging. Give her a chance to surprise you.”

He stands, clapping me on the shoulder as he passes. The weight of his hand feels like absolution and condemnation all at once. “Take it from someone who’s lived a long, messy life—secrets have a way of coming out at the worst possible moment. It’s better to control the explosion than let it blow up in your face.”

With that parting wisdom, he leaves me alone with my thoughts. I stare into the flickering shadows of the room, Uncle Everett’s words echoing in my mind like a death knell.

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